Before the Dawn
by Enlee
Summary: Gregory House wakes up in Lisa Cuddy's bed...Please read and review!


1

Before the Dawn

by Enlee

He woke up with a start, his heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears. His knuckles rapped against the night stand, knocking the alarm clock over. Somehow he managed to grab the clock before it toppled to the floor. Setting it back on the table he glanced at the green glowing numbers–3:27am. He settled back into the bed. The dream that woke him was already forgotten. He never remembered his dreams anymore and that didn't bother him. Dreams never told him anything he didn't already know. He knew he wouldn't go back to sleep but made no move to get out of bed. His insomnia never bothered him much, either. Well, that was a lie, it bothered him a lot. But at least insomnia didn't cause pain.

Gregory House closed his eyes and listened to the rain pattering on the roof. It was a pleasant, soothing sound, and his racing heart began to slow. He tried to think of nothing, tried to just enjoy the sound of the rain, but of course his mind began to wander.

He was in Lisa Cuddy's bed, naked, covered only by a pale yellow sheet. Despite the fact that it was November and only 40 degrees he was comfortable. Lisa had an aversion to being cold and always kept her thermostat on the mid 70's in the winter...heating bills be damned.

Greg looked over at Lisa. Though her back was to him, he knew that she was in a slight fetal position with the sheet pulled up to her chin. Not long a go she confided in him that after the Vogler disaster she couldn't sleep through the night for weeks. Now she could sleep straight through the night, waking up only when her ungodly loud alarm clock screeched in the morning. He had to admit he was a little envious of her sleeping. He folded up his envy, tucked it away and decided to be happy for her instead.

Happy. Was he happy? Could Gregory House actually be happy? That was a word usually not associated with him. He supposed was _happier _than he had been in a long while. Vogler was history, some interesting cases had fallen in his lap, and he was sharing a bed with the beautiful Lisa Cuddy. A man would have to be made of stone to not enjoy that last one.

Earlier that night he had been stretched out on her sofa, she lounged in an overstuffed chair with her stockinged feet tucked beneath her, a glass of red wine in her hand.

"I'll leave if you want me to," he had said.

"It's pouring out there. You'll be soaked in three seconds."

"So I get to stay out of a misplaced place sense of pity? You wouldn't send a dog out there so you won't send me out there either."

"That's one way to put it."

"Admit it, Dr. Cuddy. You want me to stay because you want my body." A mischievous glint shined in his eyes.

"And if I said yes, would that bother you, Dr. House?" Lisa smiled.

"No, not really."

"Why do you like me, Greg?"

"You're good for me."

"How's that?"

"You keep me in line...sometimes. Every now and then I need to be brought back down to Earth, even if I have to land on my ass."

After the chit-chat tap finally ran dry she set the now empty wine glass aside and padded over to him. She didn't sit on the sofa, instead kneeled on the floor. Her mouth met his. The wine on lips tasted sweet and delicious. Her fingers ran through his hair, fingernails lightly touching his skin. It was one of those odd little things that pleased him to no end. Eventually she took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

Her eyes cut right through him. They were a deep royal blue he had never seen before or since.

He imagined those eyes could see right into his soul, into the good and bad, they could see past damaged leg and broken man. Is that why she never turned him away when he showed up on her doorstep? Or could they see the real reason he liked to sleep over at her place: when he woke up in her bed he wasn't waking up alone.

Lisa was the only person who had been able to find the chinks in the wall he built around himself. Slowly but surely, brick by brick, she brought down enough the wall to where she could climb inside. The fact that he didn't throw her back over spoke volumes to both of them.

Nobody knew they sleeping together. Lisa wanted to keep it quiet for professional reasons, of course. Would it really look that bad if everyone found out? Probably. The gossip alone would be enough to drive anyone insane within a few days, they were both sure of that. The staring, the whispers. A nightmare of Titanic proportions. Greg had a more down-to-earth reason to keep it quiet: It wasn't anybody's goddamned business. But he still had to wonder if they would eventually spill their little secret. He had a vision of telling Wilson, and then Wilson picking his jaw off the floor. The thought made him chuckle out loud.

Lisa rolled over, the sheet still pulled to her chin, her other hand stretched out on the bed. Greg reached over and entwined his fingers in hers. Her hand was smooth and cool and wonderful to touch.

"Greg?" Lisa opened her blue eyes.

"Yes?"

"Still can't sleep?" She squeezed his hand.

"Nope."

"I'm sorry."

"If my insomnia was actually your fault, I might accept your apology. Now you go back to sleep, young lady."

She did. Her grip loosened on his hand. His never let go of hers. He watched her sleep and counted the minutes before the dawn.


End file.
